


Any Moment, Any Time

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Feels, Minor Angst, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prompt Fill, Wall Sex, now or never
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timing was never one of Loki's greatest strengths, but he's not about to let Natasha go without one last try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Moment, Any Time

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt fill for Anon who wanted a "Now or Never" kiss trope, and I hope you like it! It turned out a bit more emotional [and porny] than intended. Enjoy! And thanks for the prompt!

Loki had watched Natasha go out one too many times to be entirely comfortable with it, if he was honest.  Not that he had any right to say anything.  He knew that, knew it all too well.  It wasn’t his place.  By the nine, Loki likely shouldn’t have even been in the tower if not for the grace of Thor having talked Odin out of forcing him into the dungeon.  He’d said that time in the tower, surrounded by the humans who’d beaten him, would help, and as much as Loki hated to admit the thunderer was right . . . well he wasn’t entirely wrong, that was certain.  He’d grown to rather enjoy his time spent there, especially the time he’d managed to scrape together with Natasha.  She was infuriating, hell-bent on getting her own way no matter what, tricky to an extreme even he didn’t think wholly possible, and yet.  

And yet.  He’d watched her go night after night out with the same man, his heart clenched tight in his chest, eyes narrowed as he watched her disappear out the front door and jump into the man’s car, kiss him on the cheek and smile easily as he backed out of the parking garage.  He didn’t say a damn word to anyone about it, not even Thor, who’d turn to question his adopted brother as soon as Nat would leave, asking why Loki was in such a foul mood.  It’d only make him sulk all the more, slamming the door in Thor’s face as though they were children again.  

Wasn’t that what she’d said, however?  Love being for children?  

He hated it, and burned with his own secret admonition, and each night when she’d come back from her date, her eyes sharp though she looked exhausted, hair tousled and outfit just slightly _off_ , as though she’d replaced it hastily, he’d swallow the pain and suffering of it all and burn all the hotter with his anger.  Was this what it meant to be mortal?  To suffer and ache and feel as acutely as he did then?  Perhaps their short lives were blessings in disguise, if they were so terrible.  Had he not done those who perished in the battle of New York a favor?  

How he wished that someone would repay his kindness.  

 

It’d been going on for the better part of two weeks by the time he finally caught her just as she was getting ready to go out.  He’d overheard her talking with Stark about it being “the big day” and his heart had plummeted at that.  How long had they been seeing one another for them to be so serious?  He understood that they moved fast but, honestly?  He’d never thought she’d be one to take it that quickly, had hoped against it, wished for more time.  

More time hadn’t come, though, and before her ride got there he managed to catch her just before she left for parking garage.  She was gorgeous as ever, stunning, her hair twisted into an elegant knot at the top of her head with two pins holding it into place, each topped with a gem that seemed almost to be holding something within it, and her dress was a deep ebony, making her look all the more pale and delicate.  Her red lips were pursed when she caught sight of him, confused and unsure what to expect before her expression turned guarded.  

“Yes, Loki?”  She asked, placing her hand on the other elbow behind her back and shifting her weight, as though she was impatient for something.  He’d never seen her so since he’d been there, and it only validated the weight of his heart in his gut.  What could possibly have gotten her so anxious, so excited, to meet with someone else?

“I was just wondering if you wanted to catch up after you got back,” he said.  That was easy enough, justifiable enough.  They’d been quite close and talking a lot before this man had come into the picture, and since he’d been around they’d lost a good portion of that intimacy.  Loki missed it dearly, more so than he’d ever admit to.  He watched her features transform into that of someone sympathetic, who felt _bad_ , as if she pitied him.  He felt his hackles rise at that, doing what he could to keep from fisting his hands at his side.  He didn’t need her pity he just wanted to talk with her, that was all.  Pity was for the weak, and Loki was not weak, no matter what was said about him.  He’d show her.  

“I’m not sure what time I’m going to be back, Loki.  Might be a busy evening.”  

“Oh?”  He asked, keeping his face as blank as he could manage.  He didn’t want her to know about the way his bones felt as though they were melting, the way he wanted to simply sink through the floor, his confidence deteriorating.  

“Yeah.  Got a lot planned and . . well, if everything goes to plan it might just take awhile.”  She looked apologetic, truly so, and rather than alleviate the pain it just made it worse.  Why’d she have to be damn nice when she knew it would effect him the most?  

He nodded, muted by her words and the images his brain played without prompt, filling in the blanks with what she was obviously too uncomfortable to tell him herself.  The other man on his knees, Natasha saying yes and coming back with more than just hickies lining her throat, a ring worthy of a woman of her nobility and strength sitting on her left hand ring finger.  If he’d thought he’d known pain before, it was nothing compared to that, the image leaving him breathless and gasping for air.  She stared at him a little longer, her head tipped ever-so slightly to the side as though trying to read him, before reaching forward to press her hand to his bicep.  

“I’ll see you when I get back, Loki.  Have a good evening.”  

That was it. It was then, or never, he might not get another chance.  Before she could pull her hand from his arm he took it in his own and used it to pull her closer.  It was, as Tony would lovingly call it, a dick move.  He knew this.  He didn’t care.  Catching the side of her face with his hand, he pressed his lips hard to hers, his body pressed up against her and her breath warm as it left her mouth in a soft ‘oh’ of surprise.  He took advantage of her opened mouth to lick into it, opening her up further until she was moaning beneath him and his blood was singing with desire.  This.  This was why she couldn’t leave him for another man, couldn’t marry someone else she’d hardly known.  She and Loki had shed blood together--albeit on opposite sides, but that didn’t stop the bond from growing, even if in his own mind.  He couldn’t lose her, wouldn’t lose her, and his grip on her tightened to near painful levels.  He backed off only when she began to push at his chest, a gentle reminder that she needed to breathe.  She pulled away looking thoroughly debauched, lipstick smeared and pupils blown wide so that the blue was nothing but a thin ring.  He wanted to take her to bed right then, press his body into her so hard and so fast they’d never get him out.  He wanted to show her how much better he could be, that she needed to stay with him.  

She dabbed at the smeared lipstick, taking a shuddering breath and looking down at her red-stained fingertips, then back up to his lips, which were likely the same shade.  “I’ll see you later, Loki.  You may want to take care of that,”  she said, looking down at where his cock had tented the front of his trousers before turning to walk away.  He visibly sagged only when she was out of sight, the fire in his veins dying out in an anticlimactic puff of smoke.  

 

She didn’t show up for another two days, and each hour spent without seeing her confirmed his worst fears.  Perhaps she’d eloped, or she didn’t want to see him any more because of what he’d done.  He didn’t regret it--far from it, he’d truly believed he could change her mind.  That was foolish.  She as the Black Widow, and more than that she was Natasha.  It made her so damn formidable in battle and an excellent ally, that she’d not give up on anyone or anything until she deemed it necessary.  He just wished he’d been enough.  

The knock on his room on the evening of the third day took him off guard.  The others had learned plenty quickly not to bother him when he was in one of his moods, the last time he’d gone down to the training room and obliterated the technology within it in a matter of hours, neverminding the blood that’d trailed down his knuckles from the splintered wood and twisting of metal.  So who was it coming to pay him a visit now?

“Loki, you can stop sulking now,” Natasha’s voice came from the other side before he could stand up to greet her, and his blood ran cold.  Had they called her in to come and deal with him, the same way he’d been treated and stripped bare without knowing it on the hellicarrier?  He gritted his teeth.  He didn’t need a bloody handler, he just needed time, and being forced to look at Natasha, to witness just what joyful plans she had in store for her and her--whatever he would be--would be nothing but the purest form of torment.  

Yet he opened the door all the same, attention flying to her--empty--hands.  What?  

“Heard you were a bit of a brat while I was off on my mission,” she said, tipping her head to the side as she folded her arms over her chest.  “Wanna talk?”  

“I thought--mission?  You had a date.”

She rolled her eyes, though her smile was inviting.  Heartening.  “He was the mission.  Worked for AIM and I knew what he liked.  Wasn’t long before he was talking a little more than he should’ve been.”  

Oh.   _Oh_.  He couldn’t help himself from grinning, despite the heat he knew rising to his cheeks.  “Is that so?”

“Mhm.  That’s the way it works.  I get a mission to seduce the truth out of the guy I have to go and do it.  I’m the best.  You know that, don’t you?”  

The question took him off guard.  Well, yeah.  He nodded.  Was she trying to admit to doing the same thing with him?

“Then you’ll be okay with it?  No more temper tantrums when I have to go off?”  

Was she asking him or telling him?  He couldn’t tell, and licked his lips for lack of response.  “I suppose,” he finally managed to stammer.  

“Good.  Then you’re taking me out tomorrow night.  Somewhere nice, please.  You wear that Gucci suit that Tony bought you a couple weeks ago and I’ll wear something green so we don’t look too much like Christmas came early.”  The corners of her lips pulled upwards, and she moved closer to press her lips to his cheek.  He felt the lipstick leave a mark, pleased to find she didn’t have any covering her throat anymore, entirely bare to him.  “And anytime you want to kiss me like that you’d better be prepared to take me to bed right afterwards.”  

He tugged her by the hand back into his room without needing another word of encouragement, his hands roving down her spine and feeling her shudder and melt beneath him.  It was exquisite, better than he could’ve hoped for, and as she ground her hips back against him, causing him to whimper in surprise, he supposed he could deal with his own embarrassment and idiocy so long as she kept him.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, hiking herself into his hold, moaning when he rocked his hips up against hers.  He didn’t waste time, didn’t have much patience for it he found, and with the flick of his wrist their clothes had disappeared to the side of the room, folded neatly, before his mouth descended on one of her breasts.  He’d been dreaming of this moment for too long that this hardly seemed real anymore, but the weight and warmth of her in his arms, the moans that filtered through his ear as she brought her lips to the shell and nibbled at the sensitive skin there, reminded him that he’d better make this good.  The last thing he wanted was a squandered opportunity.  Shifting her just so in his arms, he sank into her without issue, turning them around so that her back was against the wall, hearing the swift gust of air leave her lips in the form of his name.  Her back arched, her nails finding his shoulder blades and digging into the skin covering them until he shuddered at the pleasure and pain, loving that fine line where they intersected.  Loving that she brought him there.  

“How long have you been thinking about this, Loki?”  Nat gasped, panting hotly against his skin, hair disheveled, stringy with sweat even though they’d barely started.  She couldn’t have looked any more delicious, and he captured her lips to try and devour her whole once more.  

“Too long,” he groaned against her mouth, keening when she bit down on his bottom lip.  “Fu--dammit Natasha.  Just like that.”  She’d started swiveling her hips in time with his thrusts upwards into her and it was making the cosmos spin in front of his eyes.  Not even the secrets of Yggdrasil could compare to the building pressure at the base of his spine, the pleasure spiking his blood stream until he thought his heart might burst from his chest.  He leaned forward and bit her shoulder, the resulting belly-deep groan of pleasure only making his movement all the faster, eager to get her off as soon quickly as he could.  One of his hands snaked between them to rub at her clit, thumb pressing and offering just enough pressure to make her body tremble, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she went still and let him speed up.  She hardly had the chance to catch her breath before he felt her seizing around him, brow scrunching up as she neared her climax.  

“Look at me--Natasha,” he gasped, catching the side of her face and positioning it just so she had to stare at him.  Her eyes were glazed, her lips parted and swollen from use, the color high enough in her cheeks that it matched her hair.  She’d never looked more lovely, and as her orgasm hit and her moans grew louder, his name on her lips and her hands finding and grasping at his, he felt her pulling him along, forcing him under as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed around them both. Had he not pulled one hand away to brace himself against the wall they might’ve fallen to the floor, his knees no longer able to support them both, her heels simply digging all the harder into his back, forcing him deeper as he filled her up.  She cursed in Russian, the sound choked, when he tried to maneuver them away from the wall, murmuring something about how she’d said bed not wall, and he just grinned and kissed her throat.  

“Gives you something else to look forward to,” he promised.  She hummed, content, and wrapped herself tighter around him.  

 

 


End file.
